Conversations Remembered
by 7th Heaven
Summary: What if Joey's mother hadn't of died when she was thirteen and her father had been there for her? What would have been different? Now an adult, Joey reflects on the conversations that her and her mother had throughout the years.
1. Just The Beginning

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dawson's Creek or the characters. They are property of Kevin Williamson.

* * *

Conversations Remembered

_**Chapter 1**_

"Pick that up right now!"

She is yelling at me again. The sturdy and healthy bones of her index finger pointed menacingly at me, moving up and down, the skin of her face red and tightly fixed in anger, and she stared at me. All of this meant little to me at the tender age of three except for one thing: she was angry. All I can appreciate, the only thing I could understand, was the anger. Her voice, mother's voice, was the clue. Her tone was chilling and harsh, enough to make a ghost jump out of its skin. I looked up at her in all innocence.

My intense brown eyes stared back at her, a frightened stare bright enough to light up an entire room. Her face was unsympathetic as she glared back at me. The cup fell slowly from my hands and rolled away with a clatter, leaving behind a pool of white residue on the kitchen floor. Fixated with the object that rolled across the floor, I chased after it as fast as my little legs would allow.

"Joey, get back here right now!"

More yelling, her tone was unchanged from two minutes earlier. I could feel her breathing down my neck as I scooted closer to the cup, which was now motionless. I could see the cup within my grasp. I reached out for it as I felt hands reach under my arms and scoop me up. I was so close, but yet so far away. I started to cry out in frustration. I could feel my mother's hand gently stroking my chocolate brown hair. Her manner was quite different now, and I felt comforted in her arms.

"It's okay sweetheart. Mommy's here."

My tears seemed to lighten a bit as she bent down to wipe away the milk. I looked up at her with pleading eyes.

"Mommy," I said.

"What is it sweetie?" she asked me.

"Can you read me a story?"

"Sure. How about you and I go get you in your pajamas and then I'll read you a story until you fall asleep."

"My princess pajamas?" I asked her.

"Sure. Come on."

She gingerly placed me in my bed. The fluffy sheets with fairytale princess imprints, felt warm against my delicate skin. I sank deeper into the sheets taking in the soothing aroma of the Lavender and Vanilla laundry detergent my mother always used. My mother neatly pulled the comforter up to my chin, tucking my hands inside. I let out a soft giggle as my mother began to tickle me.

"Stop it, mommy. Stop it," I said. A smile appeared on my face as I tried to wiggle myself free. She lightly eased her grip on me and she rearranged the covers just so.

"Mommy, aren't you going to read me a story?" I asked.

"What story do you want me to read?"

"The story about the princess." She flashed me a warm smile as she got up off the edge of the bed. She ran her finger along the long train of books, carefully looking at each title. Finally, she stopped and I knew that she had found the right book. I smiled as she pulled the book from its spot. She returned to the bed, lifting me up and placing me on her lap. I snuggled down, resting my head in her chest, as she opened the book and began reading. My eyes and ears listened intently to every word she uttered, like a melody of singing birds, each note more beautiful then the one before. My eyes were growing weary now. I tried to resist the urge to fall asleep but I seemed to be losing the battle. Giving up, I allowed my eyes to slowly sink under the lids. My mother was now stroking my hair as she continued reading. That night and for many nights that followed, I would dream of princesses in all their beauty.

* * *

**Authors Note: **When reviewing, please NO SWEARING or FOUL LANGUAGE. Constructive criticism is welcome, but keep it clean.


	2. A Whole New World

_**Chapter 2**_

Another thing that reminded me of princesses was the day my mother took me to my first day of kindergarten.

"Mommy, this dress is pretty," I said. I reached into my closet and pulled out a flower imprinted dress with a bow fastened just below the breast line.

"It looks beautiful sweetie," my mother responded. I haphazardly threw the dress into the heap of other dresses that now lay mingled on the floor. "Joey, I tucked you in a half an hour ago, you should be in bed."

"Sorry, Mommy," I said, as I returned to my spot in the bed, which was molded to my petite five year old body. I jumped into bed and pulled the covers up over my head, laughing. My mother giggled her sweet laugh as she pulled the covers off my head. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the middle of my forehead. "Honey, I know that you are excited for tomorrow but you need to go to sleep."

"Why, Mommy?" I asked her.

"Because the faster you go to sleep the faster tomorrow will come." she said.

I looked up at her with wondrous eyes. "Really?" I asked excitedly.

"Really, now go to sleep." She lightly smiled and tapped the tip of my nose. I smiled and gave a small giggle. "Good night sweetie. I love you."

"I love you too Mommy."

My mother lightly placed her hand on top of my leg, which was hidden by my comforter. She walked over to the wall and reached for the light, turning it off, leaving me under a mantle of darkness. I forced my eyes shut trying to convince myself that I was tired. It worked for only a moment and I was wide awake again; too excited for tomorrow. I staggered to find my way to the light, moving around like a blind child. Finally, I located the side of the door on which the switch was located. I stretched my arm toward the sky, trying desperately to reach the light just enough to turn it on. I grew taller as I flicked on the light, brushing the darkness from the room. I returned to the jumbled pile of dresses that lay in the middle of the sky blue carpet. I bent down and picked up the one on top. _This dress is pretty, _I think to myself. _Yeah, I want to wear this one_. I pulled the dress off of its hanger; it slipped between my tiny little fingers. I lifted the dress above my head and slipped my arms through. Naturally, my head was in the dark and I couldn't see. _Light, I need light_. I thrashed about trying to find the opening. Spotting it, I slipped my head through the hole and pulled the dress over the rest of my body. _I look pretty_, I thought to myself as I looked at my refection in the mirror. Satisfied, I ran over and switched off my light and hopped into bed, dress and all.

In the morning, mother stood against the door frame for a moment as she watched me sleep, a wide smile on her face. After a few minutes, I could feel her lightly touch my arm as she coaxed me awake. I stirred a little before looking up at her.

"Good morning sweetheart," she said.

"I'm all ready for kindergarten, Mommy," I told her excitedly.

"Not yet sweetie, first you have to get dressed."

"No Mommy, I'm ready now," I said.

"Joey, you really have to get dressed first," she said, a little harsher this time.

"I am, look!" I pulled back the covers and stood up, revealing the dress. My mother laughed as she stood up and lifted me onto the floor.

"Did you sleep in your dress?" she asked me.

"Yes, I did," I responded bluntly. She let out a small laugh.

"Come on, let's go feed you some cereal and then I will take you to kindergarten."

"Okay, Mommy," I said, bolting from the room and down to the kitchen.

After I was done with breakfast, she carefully lifted my backpack, which was filled with everything from pencils to paper and beyond, onto my back as I thread my arms through the straps.

"Are you ready Mommy?" I asked, looking up at her.

"Come on," she said as she intertwined her fingers in mine.

Once we arrived at the elementary school, we walked inside. I was still holding on tightly to her hand, not wanting to let go.

"Here's your classroom, sweetie." I peered in and noticed the crowd of kids inside, each one was scattered around the room playing with different toys.

"Hi, my name is Mrs. Johnson, I'm your teacher. What's your name?" I held tightly onto my mother's leg with my one free hand, the other of which was still clasping my mother's fingers. I buried my face in the side of her leg, trying to hide.

My mother looked down at me. "Don't be shy. Tell the nice teacher your name." I looked up at her with wide puppy-dog eyes. She bent down and lightly gripped my shoulders.

"I want to stay with you Mommy."

"How about I play with you for a while until you get to know the other kids?"

"Okay Mommy." I led her to a spot where there were some kids playing with building blocks. After a while, I become engrossed with the activity and forget all about being afraid, all because my mother was by my side.


	3. Independence

_**Chapter 3**_

That first day of school lead me to remember my Middle School years.

"Joey, get down here or your breakfast is going to be cold," my mother yelled from her place in the kitchen. Her voice was somewhat scratchy, showing the signs of becoming older. Her hair was now showing a hint of grey beneath her usual color of copper brown. I was standing in front of the mirror trying to find just the right outfit. I was tall at five feet seven inches and had a petite, thin frame. I stared at what I currently had on; a magnolia white tank top with a burgundy American Eagle cashmere sweater draped over a jean skirt on the bottom. _Perfect, now I all I have to do is find the right pair of flip-flops. _I rummaged through dozens of haphazardly scattered shoes until I finally came up satisfied. Next task at hand was putting on makeup. My mother would probably tell me that I was too young to wear makeup, seeing that I was not even a teenager yet. I started to put on just a touch of blush and eyeliner when I heard my mother calling for me again, her tone was harsher this time.

"Coming, Mom," I said as I quickly snapped on the cap to the eyeliner and threw it on my makeup table, quickly heading toward the stairs. As I neared the bottom of the stairwell, I could smell the strong aroma of eggs and bacon, which was now taking over the kitchen.

"Breakfast smells great, Mom," I said as I walked into the kitchen. She looked at me with a stern look on her face. _Oh no, not good, not good_. I cringed as she continued to cast her evil gaze on me. Here came the yelling again, she was always yelling at me.

"Josephine, take that makeup off this instant young lady!" she scolded. Without another word, she pointed toward the stairs, like she was directing traffic. Scared, I quickly turned on my heels and bolted up the stairs to my room. I started to take the makeup off my face, which was even more difficult now that it was mingled with salty tears. I could hear the bus honking its horn. I quickly grabbed my backpack off the bed and bolted down the stairs and out the door, all without saying one word to my mother.

My mother said that evening, "Joey, can I talk to you for a minute."

"I don't want to talk to you," I retorted.

"I want to make up for the way I acted this morning."

"You're going to let me wear makeup?" I asked, hopefully.

"No, but I'll make you another deal. How about you and I go to the movies?" she asked me.

"Why won't you let me wear makeup? All the other girls are wearing makeup, why can't I?" I whined.

"First of all, you are not old enough to wear makeup and secondly, you are not like all other girls, Joey, you are my daughter and I don't want my daughter wearing makeup." I looked at her without uttering a word. "I know that you are mad at me right now and that's fine, but someday when you have your own children you will understand."

"Can we go to the movies?" I asked her.

"Sure, let's go," she said, as she placed her arm around the small of my back. I leaned into her side as we walked out the door together.

"The movie was really good. Thanks for taking me Mom." I said later that evening, after we had returned home.

"You're welcome honey," she said.

"Mom, I'm sorry about the way I acted earlier."

"I know. I love you," she said as she pulled my head against her chest.

"I love you too, Mom."


	4. The Dating Game

_**Chapter 4**_

As I thought of my Middle School years, my mind frequently drifted into the events of High School.

I was standing at my locker getting my books for my next class, when I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. I closed my locker and spun around, book clenched to my chest.

"Hey, Pacey." I smiled.

"Are you doing anything tonight?"

"No," I simply replied.

"Would you like to go to a movie tonight?" he asked me. Pacey and I had been dating for a couple of months. He was about the same height as I was and has the same thin body. He had sandy blonde hair and piercing, dark green eyes; a very handsome young man.

"You know that I am not allowed to go out on school nights," I told him.

"Come on, can't you break the rules just this once?" he pleaded.

"Okay, I'll ask but I'm not promising you anything," I said.

"That's all I ask," he said as he leaned in and gave me a quick kiss.

"Mom, can I go out with Pacey tonight?" I asked my mother after school that day.

"Joey, you know the rules, no going out on school nights," my mother replied. Her voice was raspy and her face pale, the creases in her skin were now apparent. She coughed.

"If I finish my homework can I?"

"If you finish your homework, then yes," she responded. Without another word, I ran upstairs and vigorously dug into my homework. After I had finished I returned downstairs as I heard the doorbell ring. I ran to the front door in anticipation.

"Pacey, what are you doing here?" I asked, surprised.

"I figured I would come and see if we were on for tonight."

"I still have to ask my Mom. Hold on a minute," I said, signaling for him to come in.

"Mom, I've finished my homework, is it okay if I go out with Pacey now?" I asked.

"Sure, go ahead. Just be sure to be home by curfew," she told me.

"Thanks Mom," I said, excited. I returned to the front door where Pacey was patiently waiting.

"Let's go," I said, as I grabbed my coat off the coat rack.

"I am glad you could make it," he said as he gave me a light peck on the cheek. I blushed; I loved it when he did that.

"I have my Mom to thank for all of this," I said as we walked to his car, arm in arm.

And memories like those brought me to the day that I went off to college. My mother was a mess, she was crying uncontrollably.

"Don't cry," I told her. She tried to hold back the tears, but the more she tried the more they continued to fall.

"I'm going to miss you so much," she said, hugging me. Her grip was weak; her bones more brittle then they were years ago. Over the years, she had often complained of having little aches and pains, and lately she seemed to be coughing more often then ever.

"I'm going to miss you too, Mom," I said.

"I love you," she said. Her voice was now very hoarse and scratchy. Her face looked pale and drained from all of the stress of having to put up with a teenager for five years.

"I love you too, Mom."


	5. Bittersweet Sarrow

_**Chapter 5**_

I thought of all of this again on the day I was married. Ironically enough, I married my high school boyfriend Pacey. We went to the same college and continued dating until one day he asked me to marry him. I remembered telling my mother that I was getting married to Pacey. She was excited and told me that I had made a good decision. I agreed with her; he was such a caring man. She told me of the day that she married my father; it was a day she had never forgotten. She told me the story of how my father had sung her favorite song as they danced their first official dance as husband and wife. I smiled. The wedding sounded like the perfect moment.

I was standing in front of the mirror in the vestry, admiring my wedding dress. It was an egg shell white color with real diamonds in a unique design through the dress. My veil was the same color with the same unique design of diamonds.

"You look beautiful," my mother told me, walking into the room.

"I can't believe I'm getting married," I said, sighing.

"I always knew you would," she replied, softly.

"It's just seems so unreal."

"You're lucky you found the right person, some people never do," she told me.

"I'm pretty lucky," I told her.

"Someday, you're going to have your own children and you're going to get to watch them grow up and get married, just like I got to see you grow up and get married," she told me.

"I love you, Mom," I said.

"I love you too. Ready?" she asked me as we walked out of the room and into the church. I looked over at her and we exchange anxious glances. I take a deep breath, as the church doors opened; that was our cue. She smiles at me as she tightly linked her arm with mine, and I smiled back. With that she turned me over to my father and together we walked down the aisle to the front of the church where Pacey awaited.

Lastly, there were the bittersweet memories of mother upon my becoming a mother. I guess I had never really given much thought to having children. I had feared that I might not be a good mother, but then again I had never dreamed of marriage, but it had happened. After our marriage Pacey began talking about children. Having come from a family of three sisters and one brother it was understandable. I, on the other hand, didn't want kids. I was perfectly comfortable with it being just the two of us, Pacey and me. Then it happened, one year after we got married, I became pregnant with our first child. I had a long talk with my mother that day. I told her that I was worried about having to be responsible for a new life. She told me that there was no need for me to be frightened because she was sure that I was going to be a great mother. She told me about all of the great things that I would get to experience throughout the child's life, just like she had had with me. Ever since I was a little girl, she had always known just the right thing to say to make me feel better. Two years later, I was pregnant again with our second child and then two years later a third. Each time, my mother and I would return to the same conversation and each time she would tell me that there was no need for me to be afraid because I was doing fine. She always reminded me of the joys children bring and this made me smile; by then I had learned that she was right.

I laid the floral bouquet atop the tombstone, my fingers lightly caressing the words engraved in the flawless marble; "Lillian Josephine Potter – wife, mother, and friend." Truer words could not have been chosen to describe her. She had always been there for me and helped me through the good and the bad; she truly was my best friend. As I walked away from her grave on the way to my nearby car I fervently prayed that someday I would be able to return the favor by being half the mother and confidante to my children as she had been to me.


End file.
